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Last December, I participated in a plenary session at the World Conference of Science Journalists in Pretoria, called ‘Cheats, sleuths, and journalists: How to cover misconduct in science’.
My invitation to the four-day event came about as a result of my sleuthing work: I’ve used my scientific background to investigate problematic COVID-19 papers and misconduct in peer review, mostly in my free time.
The conference was aimed at investigative reporters, editors, data journalists and press officers, and was unlike any I’ve ever attended. I thought that I knew all that there was to know about the intricacies of scrutinizing and correcting science, but there was still much to learn at the event. Seeing the ‘other side’ of reporting on issues in academia — such as fraud and misconduct — was eye-opening.
I realized that many of the things that we scientists complain about in media coverage are problems that we have helped to create. I have, for instance, often complained that the authors of some early COVID-19 papers that I identified problems with had an easy ride in the media1.
But I learnt that one reason this happens is because too few scientists answer journalists directly or, in my case, take the initiative to contact them and explain the problems with such papers. Often this is because we do not understand how good journalism works. The conference made me reflect on how stronger collaboration with science journalists could have helped in some of my own sleuthing work.
Science journalists need our time — not just our quotes
One recurring message from journalists was strikingly simple: they need scientists to be available. Many explained how difficult it can be to get researchers to answer questions. In many cases, a journalist needs a lot more than a quick quote for an article that is more or less already written.
Instead, they need involvement, critical feedback, context, suggestions of other papers to look at, deep analysis and more. To draw a comparison with academic publishing, they need us to be active co-authors and investigators, rather than a researcher who came to a single meeting and now wants their name on the final paper.
Too often, however, scientists decline to answer press questions: we’re busy, answer weeks late or redirect journalists to press releases rather than engaging with them. And then some of us complain when the coverage lacks nuance. And although it is true that scientists and sleuths are busy and our universities might not value us spending time with journalists, we owe it to the public — those funding a lot of our research — to devote time to help science journalists.
Good investigative journalism is not fully transparent
Several journalists described investigations that looked eerily similar to those of scientists and sleuths: involving document analysis, interviews with many specialists, and months — or even years — of work and verification.
The uncomfortable part for someone like me, who advocates strongly for open science, is that good investigative journalism is not fully transparent in real time. Sources must be protected. Findings cannot always be disclosed immediately. And of course, as is the case for scientists, exclusivity matters.
A premature disclosure can kill an investigation, robbing a story of the exclusivity that sells newspapers or the possibility of discovering more evidence. I’ve had exchanges in which journalists told me they were unlikely to report on issues I had raised because they had already been made public.
In our session, the investigative journalist Charles Piller, who is based in Oakland, California, explained that his investigation of fraudulent research into Alzheimer’s disease was possible only because sleuths agreed to cooperate and withhold posting their concerns publicly.
This sums up a difficult trade-off: the transparency of immediate post-publication peer review on platforms such as PubPeer is useful for sleuths and scientists, but it might ruin an investigative journalist’s work. I think it is important for sleuths and scientists to consider this trade-off seriously.
Good journalism takes time — just like good science
Another parallel between scientists and science journalists became impossible to ignore: journalists face a lot of the same structural pressures as scientists do. They are often expected to produce fast, impactful, visible outputs. They compete for attention. They operate under shrinking budgets and constant deadlines.
Speed also seems to be rewarded more constantly than robustness in many cases, which will be familiar to scientists who feel pressure to ‘publish or perish’. And we know where this can lead: irreproducible research, misconduct, errors and, eventually, loss of public trust in research institutions and scientific findings, which can have catastrophic repercussions.
If we care about trustworthy science in the public sphere, scientists and journalists need each other. Science journalists do more than communicate research to the public: they also play a crucial part in post-publication peer review by investigating questionable claims, connecting scattered evidence and helping to bring important concerns into public view.
Building a better understanding in universities of the role of science journalists as well as forging better relationships with them, with more patience, responsiveness and mutual understanding, could strengthen the self-correcting processes on which good science depends.
Good science takes time. Good journalism does, too. If we continue to rush one while undermining the importance of the other, we should not be surprised by the resulting failures.
Shared from Nature Careers, for this and more great content visit doi: https://doi.org/10.1038/d41586-026-00824-1
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